Rough / L.H.

36.The Only Exception

Oh my goodness, is this chapter, dare I say, on time??? *slow clap for self*

Chapter song: Paramore- The Only Exception

LUKE

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Too many things in my past still have small strings attached all over my body. Growing up, the strings were always there; I just had to learn to live with them. Sometimes the strings attached would give me an extra tug and it would interfere with my life. I could never do anything about them, because I had never found anyone or anything to help me cut them.

I had people to help me bear with them, like Calum and Ashton. Sadly, sometimes not even they were enough. The strings were too strong, and there were too many. They helped me lose some of my mistrust towards people. They helped me gain some humanity again, and they gave me the hope that not all people were full of malice. I wish that it was less complicated, that I was less complicated, but life doesn't work that way. Life doesn't make things easy, especially when you are messed up. And unfortunately for me, I am very messed up.

I live a rough life.

A life filled and drowned with misfortunate events.

And those events still have a metaphorical hold on me, much to my despair. They have a hold on me like no other, but I need them to let them go.

I need to let go.

My past has ruined so much for me, but I cannot help it. I can't help the fact that my dad abused my mother and I.

I can't help that he did that to us, and that it affected me greatly. It bruised me, cut me, and spit me out all over again. My mind still swarms with those horrid memories. My body and mind can only take so much abuse. It kills me to know that I could have spoken up and prevented the damage my father did. Given, I was very young, but I knew it was wrong. I knew that my father wasn't supposed to abuse us the way he did. He was not supposed to call me worthless to the point that I began to believe it.

I had an exit, a small door of hope multiple times, but my juvenile mind was clouded with fear. My teachers noticed some of my bruises, even though I tried so hard to conceal the evidence.

Evidence. That's what I saw my bruised skin as,  pure evidence of the lack of love my father had for me.

I could have told the truth to my teachers and maybe they could have helped me. My younger mind was stopped by the fear, the fear that my father would find out that we said anything and that he would beat us extensively.

I blamed myself. I still do a little. What could have I done to prevent him from abusing me the way he did? What did I do wrong? Why didn't he love me? Was I really useless? Did he hit me because he just saw through my disguise and saw that I was worthless?

So many questions left unanswered.

He left us. One day he just got tired of it, or us. We never got an explanation.

I laugh in a twisted hateful way. He didn't even have the humanity to say goodbye or give us any form of explanation! He was a completely shit person! We didn't deserve that! We didn't deserve any of it. But it was so easy for him just to pick up all his belongings and abandon us! He was just above us all. He had the right to do that. What a bastard.

He was the worst of the scum out there. Didn't even have the ounce of humanity to give us a warning or anything.

Just the day before he left, he gave me a big bright mark on my little body. He showed absolutely no remorse.